


Bright Eyes

by DanniFielding



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14589855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanniFielding/pseuds/DanniFielding
Summary: Since Amelia was little, all she wanted to do was sing with the angels who kept her safe. Her Godfather didn't understand, so Dean helped her keep it hidden. Then, when home for spring break, she meets an angel in a trench coat and now he's all she hears. Cas/OC.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This is a posting of a fanfic that I've already posted on FF.net, so if you recognise it you may have already read it over there! I hope you enjoy!

A little girl sat in the middle of a car grave yard, her blonde hair up in ponytails as she twisted one part of a discarded engine into another. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing but her oily hands clung to the pieces of metal as she 'fixed' the parts. She wanted to be just like her Goddaddy, who was looking after her until her mummy came back from work. She'd been gone an awful long time but she didn't really mind. She spent a lot of time away from her mummy and she really liked her Goddaddy so while other children might be anxious, she just played away with the bits of car she found lying around.

“Amelia, sweetheart!” her Goddaddy called and she looked up, smiling widely as he headed towards her, with his baseball cap and fuzzy beard. He looked sad behind his brave smile and he crouched down in front of her. “What are you doing?” he asked kindly.

“Makin' engine,” she replied, biting her lip in concentration. He laughed and she stopped, smiling her little smile with her missing teeth. He laughed like Santa Claus sometimes.

“And how's that coming along?” he asked and she poked it, a frown appearing when nothing happened.

“S'not lookin' too good,” she said, mimicking him unknowingly. He saw it though and it made his heart ache. She shouldn't me mimicking him, it should be her mom.

“Well, I have a better idea,” he told her teasingly and she stared at him with big, blue eyes. “Guess who's staying for a few days too?” He shared the grin that exploded onto her face. She scrambled up, running towards the house as he followed her.

“Dean!” she screamed happily at the 10-year-old boy stood with his 6-year-old brother. He smiled widely as she rushed over, chucking her arms around him as he pulled her into a big bear hug, lifting her off the floor. Their father was stood to one side, watching as she did the same with Sam, who hugged her back but maybe not as enthusiastically.

“Are you sure you'll be fine with the three of them?” John Winchester asked as Bobby Singer walked up to him. Bobby brushed it off.

“We'll be fine,” he replied as Amelia pulled Dean up the stairs, wanting to show them her new room. Sam trailed after them, not left out but Amelia had taken quite the shine to Dean. Bobby wasn't much for decorating but he'd tried his best to make her feel at home.

“So, Mary's really dead?” John asked and Bobby nodded with a sigh, suddenly looking tired.

“Yeah, took down a bunch of the bastards with her though,” he explained as if it was a consolation prize.

“And you're just going to take her in?” John asked in disbelief and again Bobby nodded. “Didn't see you as the father-type.”

“Me neither, if I'm honest with you,” Bobby admitted/ “But it's either that or she goes into care, and we both know she'll end up more screwed in there than with me.” He was terrified, he wasn't ashamed to admit that. Who wouldn't be with what he had to grow up under? But he was determined to not be like his own dad, it was a shame it was at the expense of the poor girl's mother.

_~0~0~0~_

“And this is my new bed!” Amelia exclaimed, jumping on the pink castle-shaped bed, “Uncle Bobby said it was just for me because I'm going to live here for forever now.” She rambled on as Dean forced himself to look impressed. A pink castle? Really, he wasn't going to like it but she did and so he faked it. “And then, after forever is up, my mummy will come back and then I can take it with me.” Dean frowned, sitting on the bed next to her.

“Amy, do you know what forever means?” he asked her and she nodded.

“It means a really, really long time,” she told him proudly and he nodded. He knew what that meant, it meant her mum was dead. Like his and Sam's was. He glanced over at his brother, who was playing with Amy's new car play set. Sometimes he was glad Sam had only been a baby when their mum died because he didn't miss her like he did. Sam knew there was someone missing but he couldn't remember a time she had been there. Dean, he missed her terribly and he knew Amy would remember like he did as well.

“It does,” he humoured, realising she didn't know what her mum being away meant, and he didn't want to shatter her happiness like his and Sam's had been, “What should we play first?” he asked knowingly and she broke out into a grin.

“Helicop'er!” she exclaimed, chucking her arms in the air.

“Oh, no!” he groaned exaggeratedly. “We can't play that. You're too big now.” She shook her head.

“Nu-uh!” she protested. “I'm only 5, Sammy's older than me, which makes me the smallest.” Sam looked up, alarmed.

“I wanna do it too!” he exclaimed worried and Amy shook her head.

“Me first!” she argued and Sam stood up.

“No, I'm his brother,” he pointed out with a little kid smirk.

“But I'm his friend,” she cried.

“Doesn't matter,” Sam told her. “Brother's come first.” She pouted and Dean suppressed his smile at the two little kids arguing. Normal times were something he craved for, and this was one of them rare moments he could imagine happening in other families around the world.

“But, but, but!” she stuttered before her face lit up, like she had suddenly remembered something amazing. “I'm gonna marry him!” She threw it out as her last resort and it was Dean's turn to look alarmed.

“Wait, what?” he asked and Sam looked confused.

“What's that?” he asked and she sat up straighter, ready to impart her expert knowledge to him.

“It's where people who love each other have a party and they get a happily ever after,” She explained. Sam pouted.

“I want a happily ever after too!” he moaned. “Dean, tell her I can have one too.”

“I don't think you understand how it works,” Dean told the pair and Amy shook her head.

“Do too!” she protested, turning back to Sam. “You can marry us too, but only if I get the helicop'er first.” Sam nodded eagerly.

“Okay, you can go first.” She turned to Dean expectantly and he rolled his eyes, standing up with his back towards her.

“Hop on then,” he commanded and she cheered, jumping on the boy's back and he began spinning her around.

_~0~0~0~_

Dean dropped Sam onto the bed with a bounce, falling next to him, everyone laughing even though he was quite dizzy now. Amy climbed onto the bed next to him and leant her head on his shoulder as Dean stretched his back.

“You two are really getting too big for that,” he told them and she shook her head.

“You'll just have to get bigger then,” she replied matter-of-factly and he laughed.

“I'll try,” he promised her. She looked thoughtful for a moment, her brow furrowing comically.

“Dean, is your dad gone for forever too?” she asked quietly. He felt himself go defensive, because _no_ his dad wasn't going to die and how dare she say that... when he remembered she didn't know what it meant. He shook his head.

“No, he'll be back in a few days,” Dean replied confidently and she looked down, upset.

“When will my mummy be back?” she asked and he bit his lip, pulling her in for a hug.

“Forever is very, very long time,” he told her apologetically. “But until then, you'll have Bobby, and me and Sam.” Sam nodded, scooting closer and patting her back like he'd seen grown-up's do on TV.

“Yeah, and our mummy is gone for forever too,” Sam told her. “It's okay, though, cause I have Dean.”

“So, you'll be okay too,” Dean finished, making her look up at him. “Don't forget, you'll marry me and Sam and then you'll be part of our family so you won't be on your own.”

Outside the door, Bobby's heart broke all over again as he listened to two little kids comfort the poor girl when he couldn't. He'd not been able to bring himself to tell her that her mum had died, and Sam and Dean were doing a better job than he was. He pushed the door open and found the three in a huddle on the middle of the new bed that had taken him all day to put together.

“Hey, you three,” he said. “Food's up, you coming?”

“What we having, Uncle Bobby?” Amy asked.

“Sandwiches, mainly,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“Mainly?” Dean asked, seeing the tease more than the other two. Bobby nodded.

“Well, I went to the store this morning and bought a big apple pie, but I don't know if you'll want...” He was interrupted by a big cheer from the three and he chuckled lowly. Amy was already off the bed, a big smile on her face even though she was clinging to Dean's hand tightly.

“Can I have my sammiches cut up into shapes?” she asked Bobby, who nodded as they headed back down stairs.

“I'll try, I can't promise they'll be any good though,” he replied.

“I'll help!” Dean exclaimed, always wanting to be the adult in any situation. Bobby nodded.

“All right, Dean. I'll make them, you can carve 'em up.”

As Bobby made the baloney sandwiches, and he watched Dean painstakingly carve a castle out of one, handing it to Amy who stared up at him with pure adoration on her face, he briefly thought that they would be okay after all.

_~0~0~0~_

Dean and Sam shared a room, now that Amy had her own. Bobby had dragged the old bed from the other room into the spare room, so at least they didn't have to share that. It was a luxury they'd barely experienced, being on the road so often meant they'd shared beds more than they'd not. Sam, still innocent and young didn't wake when the door creaked open but Dean's eyes snapped open, having been trained to always be aware, even when asleep. The little sniffle calmed him down slightly and he saw the outline of Amy in the doorway, stuffed toy in hand as she cried. He climbed out of bed, walking over and crouching down like Bobby did.

“What's wrong?” he whispered.

“It's dark an' I can't sleep,” she sobbed and he smiled kindly, holding his hand out. She clutched it tightly and he lead her back to bed, covering her up.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asked. “Because they can't hurt you, you know?” He grinned. “I won't let them.” She shook her head.

“No, mummy used to let me sing to sleep, but Uncle Bobby won't let me,” Dean frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because of a secret,” she replied sadly. He smiled, looking towards the door then back at her. He stood up and closed it, after checking the hallway, and then moved back over, climbing onto the bed with her.

“Well, I won't tell him if you won't,” he promised quietly and a huge smile broke on her face.

“Really?” He nodded and she nodded, closing her eyes and opening her mouth. A sweet 'ah'-type note came out and he was pleasantly surprised to find she could actually sing. Then, the room flashed with a bright light and he was suddenly alert again. He rolled over, using himself as a shield over her but she didn't seem alarmed as the room flashed white again. She continued to sing, and he was mystified to hear what sounded like a church choir joining in, all singing the same note. He looked around, trying to spot the source of the mystical sound, but he couldn't. Maybe this was a bad idea. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. He turned back to see her fast asleep, a soft, content smile on her face. The door burst open and Bobby appeared with a shotgun.

“What was that, Bobby?” Dean asked, afraid yet calm in equal measures. Bobby lowered his gun and nodded his head for Dean to follow him.

“I don't know, son,” he replied. “But no more singing, okay? And don't tell anyone, especially your dad.” Dean nodded solemnly, knowing what his dad might do if he found out. Bobby opened the bedroom door and they found Sam still fast asleep. “That boy could sleep through the apocalypse,” Bobby commented fondly and Dean nodded. “Right, sleep, okay? And not a word until I figure out what the hell is going on.”


	2. Chapter 2

16-year-old Amelia Miller opened the front door to the slightly run-down house she and her Uncle Bobby lived in, just on the outskirts of Sioux Falls. She fought with her key for a moment - the lock really needed changing - before chucking it onto the table next to the door. She let her school bag slip off her shoulder and it hit the floor with a thud. She listened out, trying to hear her Godfather, but the house seemed eerily silent.

“Uncle Bobby?” she called, leaving her bag where it fell as she headed into the study. One of the many phones that lined the wall started ringing and, with a frown, she headed over to it. She checked through the archway in the wall into the kitchen, but he wasn't there. So, with a sigh, she picked it up and held the old-fashioned handset to her ear.

“Hello,” she greeted, a smile on her face as she forced a cheery voice. “This is,” she glanced at the piece of paper above the phone, “Agent Adams office. This is his assistant Moyra how can I help today?”

“ _Is Agent Adams there?_ ” the man on the other end of the line asked in a gruff, commanding voice causing her to roll her eyes.

“No, I'm afraid he's with Agent Jenson,” she explained, glancing at the wall at another name. “Perhaps I could help today.”

“ _I'm just following up on two agents who turned up on_ my _case this afternoon,_ ” the man snapped and she mouthed along, mocking the detective. Same old story, different grumpy man.

“Well, if you would like to leave your name and number, I would be happy to pass the message along,” 2he explained cheerfully.

“ _No, I'll call back later._ ” And he ceremoniously hung up on her.

“How rude,” she grumbled, slamming the phone down in a huff. Stupid police, they never had any manners. She muttered a few choice words she wouldn’t dare say in front of her Uncle as she headed towards the back door, guessing Bobby was out in the scrapyard.

“Uncle Bobby!” she screamed as she opened the door, knowing she had to be loud if there was any chance of him hearing her. There was someone stood there and she screamed in surprise, reacting first and pulling her fist back to punch them. Her Uncle Bobby had always taught her it was easier to apologise than come back from the dead.

“Woah, woah, woah!” the person exclaimed, catching her fist and she blinked in surprise, relaxing.

“Dean?” she asked, taken aback and he nodded, shooting her a cocky grin and she began to beam. “Dean!” she exclaimed, suddenly ecstatic as she chucked her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He chuckled, lifting her off the ground as she squealed in delight. “What are you doing here?” she asked him as he lowered her back onto the ground. He puffed his chest out, looking so proud of himself.

“Dad just dropped me off so I can pick up my own car,” he told her, trying to act casual. “We're splitting up for a week, I'm going off on my own.” Her mouth dropped in surprise. On one hand she was so excited for him, after all no one knows the need to prove themselves to a parent like a teenager. But, still...

“On your own?” she echoed. “Isn't that, you know, really dangerous?”

“Nah,” he dismissed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he walked her into the scrap yard. “You know I know what I'm doing, Amy. I've ganked enough bitches is my time.” She rolled her eyes with a smile.

“All right, Grampa,” she teased in reply, leaning into him slightly. God, she loved Dean. He was like... not quite a brother, but more than a cousin. It was hard to describe. Both him and Sam were, she always turned into such a child whenever they were there.

“Hey, don't talk back to your betters,” he scolded.

“I'll remember that when I see one,” She retorted as they approached Bobby's new pride and joy. He'd told her it was a '71 Chevrolet Chevelle, or something. While she knew somethings about cars, like basic maintenance, she wasn't too up to date on naming or branding them. All she knew was the day it had been brought it by a guy looking to scrap it, her Uncle Bobby had taken it under his wing and now it was shining.

“Yo, Bobby, I brought ya sommat,” Dean called out and, from behind the open hood, Bobby stuck his head up.

“Knew you'd be getting home soon,” he told her gruffly and she skipped over from underneath Dean's arm to take a look under the hood.

“I thought you'd just finished on the engine?” she asked and he nodded, motioning for her to step out of the way before shutting it with a small thud.

“Just giving it a once over before bozo here,” he motioned to Dean, “steals her from me.” He pulled the ever-present dirty rag out of his back pocket and attempted to wipe his oily hands with it.

“You're letting _Dean_ take the Chevelle?” she asked, incredulous.

“It's not like I had much choice,” Bobby grumbled. “It's not like I have any other working cars lying around.”

“You know I'll take good care of her,” Dean promised, holding his hand out expectantly and Bobby sighed, handing him the keys roughly. Dean grinned, chucking the keys in the air once. “Coming for a spin, Amy?” he asked and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Hell yeah!” she cried.

“Language, Amelia,” Bobby scolded and she shrugged, climbing into the passenger seat of the car. Bobby had yet to drive his new car and Amelia had been waiting to go somewhere in it. He'd done such a beautiful job of it, there was no way anyone could not look at it and say it wasn't gorgeous.

“Sorry Uncle Bobby,” she called from the car. “Come on, Dean!” Bobby leant on the window, looking in with a suspicious look on his face.

“You got homework?” he asked and she sighed, annoyed.

“I'll do it when I get back,” she moaned just like the teenager she was. Dean climbed into the driver's seat, chucking his duffle into the back seat.

“Yeah, Bobby, she'll do it when she gets back,” he told the man. “Come on!”  He clapped his hands against the steering wheel in his own excitement.

“Don't hit my car,” Bobby commanded and Dean held his hand up in surrender. Bobby looked back at Amelia, who was smiling hopefully at him. She was a happy girl. Well, as happy as a teenage girl could be, but he never saw her smile like she did when the Winchester lads were there. Who was he to ruin that?

“Back before curfew, or never again,” he warned and she pushed up, placing a kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“Thank you, Uncle Bobby!” she cheered. With a smack on the roof of the car, because _he_ could hit his car, Dean sped them off.

_~0~0~0~_

Dean didn't seem to have any plan of where to go, just headed onto the main road and drove away from the town. Amelia's feet were up on the dashboard, something Dean was sure she wouldn't do in Bobby's presence.

“You are _such_ a bullshiter!” she exclaimed, laughing and he held one hand to his chest.

“Hand on heart, right though the chest,” he promised.

“There is no way you fought a wraith off by yourself, Dean,” she protested.

“All right, Sammy may have helped a little,” he conceded. “But I knifed the sucker right in the heart.”

“Ah, now I know you're bullshitting me,” she cried triumphantly. “As if your dad would let Sam near a wraith.” Dean smacked the steering wheel in frustration.

“Dammit, so close!” he groaned as she crossed her arms above her head, leaning on them.

“I just know you too well, Dean,” she explained smugly. He smiled and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“How did you know?” he asked, curious and frowned slightly as a sad smile spread across her face.

“You don't tend the brag about the monsters you _actually_ fight unless your dad's there,” she replied and the pair fell silent. For all his bravado, he actually didn't really like talking about the death he saw day-to-day and she knew that. “I've known you for so long, you've always been there for me when I've been scared. I like to think I know when you're scared too,” she muttered. He didn't reply at first, just pulled up onto a dirt track that headed off into a wooded area. He stopped them in a little clearing and turned the engine off, twisting in his seat. Amelia was blushing pink, obviously embarrassed by her little outburst and his head tilted slightly, a fond smile spreading across his face. Every time he saw her she seemed to have changed somehow. Maybe she was a little taller, maybe she'd cut her hair short, but it always surprised him. She really wasn't a kid anymore. She was growing up.

“Okay, enough chick flick moments,” he declared, reaching into the back for his bag. He pulled out an old tape and put it into the tape deck, letting it play. _Don't Fear the Reaper_ started playing and he nodded his head in approval. “That's more like it. Get out, Miller.” He climbed out and sat on the hood, looking out into the woods. She pulled herself up next to him and leant on his shoulder.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Nowhere else to go,” he replied and they silence fell again. Amelia loved moments like this, just her and Dean, just listening to music or watching television. She liked the fact that she could be normal around him but still not have to hide the darkness that shadowed both their lives, his much more than hers.

“I dreamt about my mom last night,” she declared suddenly and Dean strained to look down at her. “Least, I think it was my mom. I don't really remember her too well and I don't have any pictures of her.”

“How do you know it was your mom, then?” he asked gently, probing because he knew that was what she wanted.

“She just... she felt she was my mom,” she explained. “She was looking over me, calling me princess while I was at school. I think it's some memory sorta being twisted by my head, because I don't think she ever called me princess.” She shrugged. “Maybe she did, I don't know.”

“You should ask Bobby, he'd know,” he suggested and she shook her head as the song changed to a Boston classic, the instrumental _Foreplay_ coming out of the limited speakers of the car.

“Seems disrespectful, somehow,” she explained gently. “I don't want him knowing I think about my mom because he's been so good to me and I don't want him to think I'm not grateful.” Dean nodded.

“I can understand that,” he agreed. “Do you know this song?” he asked her and she nodded, confused about the change in conversation.

“Yeah, I love Long Time,” she replied. “Brilliant song, why?”

“Cause you're going to get off the hood,” he told her, pushing her slightly so she stumbled onto her feet. “And you're gonna rock out to it until you feel better.”

“I...” she stuttered. “Uncle Bobby says...”

“Bobby ain't here,” Dean interrupted. “And you know I won't tell him, I ain't told him yet.” She stared, amazed before a look of pure joy.

“Really?” she exclaimed and he nodded, chuckling as she jumped up and down slightly. “Oh my god, oh my god.” She cleared her throat as the song changed over to it's second half. “ _It's been such a long time! I think I should be goin', yeah. And time doesn't wait for me, it keeps on rollin'._ ” she sang, the clearing becoming brighter and brighter by the second as light streamed through the tree., “ _Sail on, on a distant highway. I've got to keep on chasin' a dream, I've gotta be on my way. Wish there was something I could say._ ” Dean started playing his air guitar as she clapped along with the music blaring out.

_Well I'm takin' my time_

The voices filled the air, singing the next line in a chorus. Amelia was beaming, showing just how content she was. She never felt as good as she did when she sang. The light seemed to fill her soul, Dean still couldn't understand why Bobby was so scared of it.

“ _I'm just movin' on. You'll forget about me after I've been gone,_ ” she continued.

“ _And I take what I find,_ ” Dean joined in with the voices as she spun around from where she had been dancing with herself and jumped back onto the hood, taking his hand in hers.

“ _I don't want no more. It's just outside of your front door_.” She swayed next to him and he watched her, but she was staring upwards, not at all blinded by the white light illuminating them.

He remembered being so scared when he first saw it, when she sang herself to sleep the night she found out her mom had died. It had been, and still was, overpoweringly bright and daunting. It wasn't natural which, as he had learnt since the moment his own mother had died, meant it was bad.

But he had done what Bobby had told him to at the time and he'd kept it from his father and they proceeded to grow up as two close families. From that point on she'd always been in his life, and the more he had seen it, the more he realised that it wasn't bad. His gut instinct had developed over the years and it didn't seem strange or worrisome that disembodied voices sang her to sleep. In fact, as he watched her belt out Boston in her school uniform, it seemed very 'Amelia'. Part of him felt guilty that somewhere inside he knew that if she hadn't been Amelia, if she'd just been some girl, they'd been working her out. She'd be a case and he'd be on the phone telling his father straight away. But she wasn't just some girl, she was _Amelia._ She'd stopped singing in front of Bobby for the most part and the man had told him just an hour ago that he hadn't seen the light in about a year. It was only him who knew about it now. No one else needed to know.

_~0~0~0~_

18-year-old Amelia sat in the middle of her stairs like a 10-year-old, hands clasped nervously between her legs as she listened to the arguing going on in the study. The two men shouting at each other were oblivious to her presence, but it was really shaking her up. One thing that made her feel like a child was hearing her Uncle Bobby angry, truly furious and she shifted anxiously. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to listen but she really didn't want to go upstairs and hide either. Something made her stay within earshot, close to them, as if she was waiting but she felt like crying, like she'd done something wrong.

John Winchester had turned up that afternoon looking as close to heartbroken as she'd even seen him. She didn't really like him much, having watched the way she treated his two boys all throughout her childhood had made her wary of the man, but she still felt sorry for him when he'd told Bobby that he and Sam had fought, and Sam had run off to Stanford. Her Uncle Bobby had been sympathetic, but the drinking had started not too long afterwards and now they were arguing. Well, John was arguing, Bobby was still rather sober and trying to calm him down.

Her main worry, though, was Dean. He hadn't been at the door, he wasn't in the car and she'd been flipping her phone open and closed for a while now wondering if she should ring him. If Sam had run from John, he'd run from Dean too and she knew he'd be shattered by his brother's actions. But what if he didn't want to talk? What if he did? Eventually, she pulled her courage together and listened, holding her breath, as the call rang.

“ _Amy?_ ” Dean asked and her heart broke over how devastated he sounded.

“Hey, Podge,” she replied, trying to sound cheerful. “You okay?”

“ _Did you know?_ ” he asked in reply. “ _I heard you with your friends talking about Stanford._ ” She sighed.

“I knew he'd applied. I didn't think he'd just... you know, run off,” she admitted. “I can't believe it, actually.” John swore loudly, the sound echoing down the phone.

“I _s that my dad?_ ” he asked.

“Yeah, he's pretty hammered,” she explained as something smashed. “Why don't you get your ass down here and we'll get hammered too?” she suggested.

“ _Why didn't you tell me?_ ”

“Because he asked me not to,” She replied. “Because I didn't think he'd do it so badly. Because I know, deep down, you want him going to college to be a _good_ thing.” She sighed. “He has the chance for a normal life, Dean. Barely any of us have that.”

“ _You do,_ ” he snapped.

“For now,” hhe agreed, “But we both know I'm delaying going to college because we know there's no point. I'm going to get into the life sooner or later, Dean. I know you're angry at the way he's left it, but don't tell me you're not proud of him.” Something else smashed and she glanced down worriedly, slightly scared. “It's getting pretty bad in there. What should I do?” she asked.

“ _Let him work it out._ ” Dean replied tiredly. “ _He's a mean drunk_.”

“DON'T GIVE ME THAT BULLSHIT, BOBBY!” John's voice hit Dean's ears. “JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PLAYING HAPPY FAMILIES DOESN'T MEAN YOU UNDERSTAND! YOU'LL NEVER BE HER FATHER!” Her back tensed, a wave of fury washing through her.

“ _Wow,_ ” Dean breathed as she stood up. “ _He really is drunk._ ” He seemed surprised.

“I'm going to have to call you back, Dean,” she told him.

“ _Wait, don't go in there!_ ” Dean exclaimed, suddenly alarmed. “ _Just let him work it out, Amy._ ”

“I'll call you back,” she snapped before flipping the phone closed, ending the call. She stormed down the stairs, almost shaking because he'd gone too far. A courage that she didn't actually know she had in her flared up and Bobby seemed to panic at the sight of her.

“Yo, Winchester!” she snapped and in his drunken haze, John staggered around in a full circle. Had he been alert, not distracted by whiskey or his tattered relationship with his younger son, he would have seen her coming a mile away. However, he was and she smacked with her right fist before he knew what hit him. He yelled in pain, temporarily stunned and she grabbed his arm, bending in behind his back until his knees buckled slightly. “Get the fuck out of my house!” she shouted as she marched him to the front door, reaching in front of him and opening it. He was larger than her but so hammered it only took one push and he was on the dusty floor outside.

“What the fuck?!” he slurred as she towered over him.

“If I ever hear you talk about my Uncle Bobby like that again, I'll kill you,” she swore darkly. “You have _two_ sons, you know? Why the hell are you here when Dean needs you as well?” She reached into his front pocket, groping him slightly as she pulled out his car keys. She pointed them at him. “You stay out here, but you're _not_ having these until you remember that.”

“You little bitch...” he snapped, trying to scramble up and she nodded, an evil grin spreading across her face.

“Yes, I am,” she agreed. “'Night, Winchester.” She turned and slammed the door shut behind her. She leant against the door, sighing in anger as she ran her hand through her short, blonde hair. Another shuddering breath and she chucked his keys as hard as she could down the hallway, where they bounced off the refrigerator.

“Princess?” she looked over at her Uncle, who was stood in the doorway to the study, amazed. John was stomping and groaning on the other side of the door but seemed to be wandering away into the scrap yard. She felt herself tear up and became increasingly frustrated.

“He's wrong,” she whispered before she started crying, feeling weak because of it. Bobby quickly pulled her in for a hug, still as uncomfortable as he always was with her being emotional.

“Of course he is,” he reassured her gruffly.

“How could he forget about Dean?” she whimpered. “You never do and he has the nerve...”

“Shh,” he shushed her gently as her soft cried began turning into sobs. “That's enough of that, all right?” She nodded and he let her go, shooting her his best, reassuring smile, “He could have really hurt you, Princess,” he scolded gently and she shook her head.

“Like to see him try,” she boasted and he chuckled. She smiled slightly, glad to have, hopefully, cheered him up a bit and after a moment he rolled his eyes.

“Go on then,” he declared. “Go ring your boyfriend, tell 'im to get his ass down here.” She laughed and bumped into him as she headed towards the stairs where her phone was still laying.

“He's not my boyfriend,” she moaned like a teenager.

“Of course not,” he replied as if he was humouring her. “Oh, and don't think I didn't hear you swear.”

“Sorry Uncle Bobby,” she called, ringing Dean back and telling him just was Bobby had told her to say.


	3. Chapter 3

Amelia, now 25 and a full four inches taller than she had been a decade earlier, was back home for the mid-term break in what was her last year of university. She was taking a long-deserved week away from her responsibilities and had decided to spend in the company of her wonderful godfather. She'd been stowed away in her bedroom for the best part of seven hours on the third day of her vacation and, as the old clock downstairs chimed 4pm, she placed her brush down into the tray and sighed contently, tired but proud of her own handiwork.

She rubbed a hand across her forehead, wiping the sweat away before placing a hand to her hip and taking one step back to look over her masterpiece; a mural depicting all the music of her favourite songs. The sheet music of particularly poignant lines with the lyrics underneath now decorated her walls. Not the most technically challenging thing ever created, but she dared anyone to draw that straight a line freehand. She turned back to look at the rest of the room, smiling at the bed fondly. She remembered when her Godfather Bobby had made a headboard in the shape of a pink castle for it when she'd first moved in. She had refused to get rid of it for years, in fact the only reason it wasn't there is because she was messing around one afternoon and it finally splintered after years of abuse and less than stellar building conditions.

She frowned in thought, tapping the handle of the paintbrush she had in her hand on her lips. Maybe she should paint one onto the wall. It was a bit bare. She looked down at her paints; white as the walls were, black for the music notes and red for giant pair of lips she had drawn on the other wall without a window of a door on it. ' _Don't Dream It, Be It_ ' scrawled underneath it in what she thought was beautiful lettering, if she said so herself. She'd need to get some pink. She had the two colours to make it, but she’d rather have had something mixed so she didn’t have to keep matching shades if she ran out. Home Depot didn't close until late so her Uncle Bobby could take her down to get some. She turned and headed down the stairs quickly, the tip of the toes grazing each one.

“Uncle Bobby, I'm gonna need some more paint!” she called, heading towards the study where she knew he would be. He had his back to the open doorway but her attention was immediately drawn to the two other occupants.

“Dean!” she exclaimed happily as Dean turned to her, a grin appearing as she disregarded Bobby and ran straight over to him. Sam smiled at how happy his brother suddenly was, grabbing hold of the young woman and pulling her in for a hug she returned happily. Very few things could pull that reaction out of his brother these days, and aside from apple and blackberry pie and Chuck Norris marathons, Amelia was it.

“Amelia!” Dean cried with a laugh. “Thought you were at college.”

“Oh, that,” she brushed off, pulling back. “Look at you, Mr Hunter. You've got all podgy since the last time I saw you.” She poked his belly and he knocked her hand away with an annoyed grunt.

“Hey, I'm freakin' gorgeous,” he defended. She couldn't stop smiling, her face actually starting to hurt as she turned to Sam. He was still freakishly taller than her and actually lifted her off the floor purely because he knew she hated it.

“I thought you were with your little fan club?” she asked the pair.

“Oh ha ha,” Dean snapped. “Like to see how you react to having books written about _your_ life.”

“I'm sure that'll be _real_ interesting,” she retorted. “Girl goes to university to study English, sounds just as interesting as two homo-erotic brothers hunting demons.”

“All right, enough flirtin',” Bobby snapped. “Perhaps we should get back to the matter at hand.” Amelia nodded, sitting down on the sofa that lined one wall.

“What we hunting?” she asked, elbows on her knees as she propped up her chin with her hands.

“We're not,” Sam replied, and she frowned in confusion. “Someone rang dad's old phone claiming to be his son. Didn't even know he was dead.” Her eyebrows shot up and she sat straighter, leaning forward.

“Really?” she exclaimed, obviously not expecting that. “Why's he only ringing now?”

“He's not!” Dean snapped. “He's obviously not his son, we're walking _right_ into a trap.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed. Dean had been arguing against going to see the supposed 'son' ever since they got the phone call. “He could be in trouble.”

“He _is_ trouble,” Dean snarled, jabbing his finger towards the door.

“Sam's got a point,” Amelia agreed and Dean stared at her, incredulous.

“I'm sorry?” he asked quietly, fuming.

“Look, I'm as shocked as you are,” she lied, because it didn't surprise her. Nothing she ever found out about John surprised her. “But it's been two years. Now, if he is your brother – _if_ ” she reiterated as Dean opened his mouth to protest, “then why's he waited two years to call your dad? They can't have been close if he didn't even know he was dead.”

“So?” Dean snapped, sullen.

“So... Why now? If he and his supposed dad don't get along, why ring now?”

“Because he's in trouble, and dad's the only one he knows can help,” Sam finished, nodding his thanks to her as he sat on the arm of the sofa. She smiled, tilting her head slightly towards him.

“Exactly. Now, whether he is in trouble or he _is_ the trouble is irrelevant, isn't it?” she pressed. “The fact that there is trouble should have you jumping into your car and speeding to...” she looked up at Sam. “Where?”

“Minnesota,” Sam offered.

“Minnesota,” she repeated. “But you're here arguing. Now, to me, that sounds like you have more of a problem with the fact that your dad lied to you than the fact it may be a trap.” Sam could have laughed at the look on Dean's face, his mouth hanging open in shock and outrage as Amelia hit the nail right on the head. If Sam had even dared to suggest that, Dean would have ripped him a new one regardless of company, but Amelia always brought out a more subdued outburst.

“We're doing this my way,” he demanded, looking between the two of them pointedly and Sam nodded eagerly, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Anything you want,” he agreed as Amelia seemed to realise something, her eyes opening wide.

“'We'?” she repeated. “As in, _we?_ ” She motioned between the two Winchester brothers and herself. “As in, you, Sam and me?” She looked at him hopefully but Bobby shook his head.

“You know the rule,” he told her firmly and she sighed in frustration. The rule had been a constant source of annoyance for the last six months or so. It had always been there; if she wanted to become a hunter, he wouldn't stop her, but she had to finish college first. She'd readily agreed, in fact it seemed like a good idea, and she'd always wanted to go. She applied to roughly a dozen colleges and universities and ended up doing an English degree roughly three hours away. She'd really enjoyed it for the first two years, and really it had all been going well up until that Christmas, after hearing one too many stories about the angel in a trench coat who'd brought back her best friend from Hell. She had yet to meet him, but as she never went hunting, or was away at college, she never had the opportunity to and it was really starting to piss her off. It had caused quite a few arguments between the normally amicable Godfather and daughter, and it seemed like this was going to be another one.

“Oh, come on!” she moaned. “I'm the same age as Sam, and he can do what he wants!” Sam winced at her bringing him into the fight. He'd hoped she'd leave him out for a least a little while. Dean shot him a smug smirk, obviously pleased after being ganged up on.

“I don't care,” Bobby retorted. “You ain't going.” She stood up, arms thrown out at either side.

“It's not even a proper hunt!” she argued before realising shouting hadn't gotten her anywhere before, so it wasn't going to work now. She sighed, relaxing her arms. “Look, Dean _and_ Sam are going to be there, so I'm not going to be on my own.” She reasoned, “And it's only like, an hour away. And...” She trailed off for a moment, thinking of anything else she could use. “And I'll take my books with me and I promise I'll study whenever I can.” She could see he wasn't completely convinced, but she wanted to do this. Her, Sam and Dean on the road. She had thought that this would never be a possibility after Dean had died.

Amelia still wasn't over what had happened to him and still expected to wake up and for him to be gone forever. Dean had actually been good with her about it, considering he was the one who'd gone to Hell in the first place. He never made fun of her when she rang him up in the middle of the night to make sure he was still alive, and he'd text her just to say 'hi' because he knew what it meant to her. It was just like Dean, always thinking about everyone _but_ himself.

She took a step towards him, her thoughts of him being dead again causing her to unconsciously shift nearer, as if her proximity to him would reassure her more that he _was_ back from the dead actually than seeing and talking to him. Bobby noticed, he always noticed what she did and suddenly saw through her arguing for what it was. After all, she'd barely been able to spend any time with Dean or Sam since he was brought back from the dead.

“Have you done all your work?” he asked and her face broke out in a large grin. “'Cause if you have anything...”

“No, no I don't,” she quickly reassured him. “I swear it.” He sighed, not very happy at all.

“It ain't me you have to convince,” he told her, basically giving her the blessing she was looking for. With an intake of breath she turned to look at Dean, eyes wide, waiting. She looked like a little kid, never mind the fact she looked younger than Sam ever had and his lip pulled up at one side, a smirk on his face.

“How can I say no to that face?” he told her and she squealed, actually squealed, and jumped up and down on the spot.

“I'll go get my stuff!” she exclaimed before rushing upstairs. Dean chuckled then turned to Bobby.

“I know, I know,” he started before Bobby could say anything. “We've got her back, and if it gets out of hand we'll send her straight back.” Bobby nodded once.

“Good,” he snapped before sighing. “But she's not exactly a kid anymore, is she?” They could hear her stomping upstairs before, very quickly, running back down with a backpack on and a bulging messenger bag flung over her shoulder.

“That was... that was fast,” Sam observed with a great deal of amusement and she nodded excitedly.

“I've been ready for this for _years,_ ” she explained, out of breath. She patted the shoulder strap of the backpack. “This bag has four changes of clothes, deodorant, two cell phones, a couple of my credit cards, some make up...” Dean was laughing now, waving a hand to stop her list.

“Okay, Amy,” he told her. “Go chuck it in the car.” She nodded, dashing out and he looked at Sam. “Who knew we were so desirable?” Sam shrugged.

_~0~0~0~_

Sam opened the door to his and Dean's motel room, letting Amelia in while he held their dad's phone to his ear. She'd checked into her own room, the one next door, because who wanted to share a room with two oversized full-grown men? Well, actually, she thought they wouldn't want to share with her spreading out over every available space but she wasn't complaining. King-sized beds were a luxury she couldn't normally afford but seeing as she had to use her fake credit cards to not leave a trail, she decided it was time for a bit of comfort.

“No, no 11's fine,” he reassured whoever he was talking to as she skipped over to Dean, university bag over her shoulder. It was bulging with her books but she pulled it onto her lap as she joined him on one of the double beds the room held.

“He talking to your little bro?” she asked him teasingly and he shot her a glare.

“He's not our brother,” he snapped in reply as Sam ended the phone call.

“Right, we're meeting him at place called 'Cousin Oliver's' for lunch,” he explained, sitting down on the other bed with his laptop, opening it up. Dean pulled a face. He had been in a bit of grump the entire way there and that hadn't seemed to have cleared up once they'd settled down for the night.

“So, is this when we research all the strange goings-on in the area and see how we can link it to this 'Adam' kid?” she asked eagerly.

“No,” Dean scoffed. “This is where _Sam_ researches while you get to studying and I...” He crossed his legs at the ankles and very dramatically turned the television with the remote. “Catch up on my stories.”

“Oh, come _on,_ ” she groaned. “What's the point of me being here if I can't help?”

“Hey, you're the one who promised Bobby,” he pointed out. “So, get to it. Chop chop.”

“Chop chop,” she grumbled, pulling her bag onto the bed. “You know, you used to be more fun.”

“I'm not getting my ass kicked because _you_ can't keep your promises,” he told her with a grand air of finality, looking over her and watching whatever nonsense he'd put on the screen. Muttering under her breath, Amelia lifted the bag onto her knee and opened the first book she came across. She kept it in the bag just in case they needed to rush off without warning but, with the air of a small child, she reluctantly began reading. She had expected Dean to want to show her what he did when he was off with Sam. Obviously not killing things every moment of the day but he was normally full of stories about him and Sam on the road. Little mini adventures that didn't involve the supernatural in any way. She liked the hear about them because most of the time they sounded like two brothers on a road trip rather than hunters and she'd hoped she might get roped into one herself. A story they could share because they were becoming fewer and farther between these days.

Dean chuckled along with the canned laughter on whatever black and white show he was watching as she turned the page, barely looking at what was written on any of them. She'd seen the words and drawings so many times before. It was mainly diagrams and she knew she could draw them off by heart. Maybe that was the problem; that it was _Dean and Sam_. Not Dean, Sam and some chick who'd decided to tag along. Perhaps he hadn't wanted her to come along at all and she'd just hitched herself onto them anyway.

A sideways glance at Sam showed him staring intently at the screen in front of him, using the mouse pad to click on something. She'd not even asked Sam if it was okay. Maybe he wanted it to just be him and his brother. She had just clung to one word for dear life, like a _child._

She was just sick and tired of feeling useless. Sat hundreds of miles away from home and everyone she considered her family saving the world. All fighting the badness and the darkness while she'd been reading _Tess of the fricking d'Urbervilles_. She loved books, it was the sole reason she took English as her major but Jesus Christ, she couldn't make it to the end of _that_ piece of trash. How was she supposed to force her way through reading, or studying, or writing ridiculously long essays about subtext or cultural merit while there were people dying out there?

She slammed the book close with an angry sigh, chucking her bag on the floor, much to the surprise of the two men.

“It's all bullshit!” she cried, standing up. “I'm going to get some snacks.” She stormed towards the door, snatching Dean's wallet from the side as she left. Dean looked at Sam as the door slammed shut.

“What the hell was _that_?” he asked, confused and Sam shrugged.

“Something she read?” he offered. Dean climbed off the bed, picking up the keys as he followed her. “Amy, wait!” The door shut behind him leaving Sam behind. He walked over, picking up her discarded bag, slightly surprised at the weight of it. It brought back memories of his own time at university. Carting everything he had to every class in case he needed it. Jess had always tried to get him to loosen up a bit, he really didn't need his first-year books in his fourth after all. It'd never worked, he had kept everything close. Everything but what had mattered, in the end.

Tearing himself out of depressing thoughts of a past he couldn't change even if he tried, he sat it on the bed, the bag falling over and a book slipping out. He lifted the flap to push it in and frowned at the book's title. He'd seen that book before. He picked it up and flicked through it, seeing symbols and rituals he'd seen so many times over his lifetime. This was one of Bobby's demon books. He looked down at the bag, his brows knitted together then at the book again. There was no way she was studying _this_ at University.

_~0~0~0~_

Amelia pushed some of Dean's money into the vending machine without a care that it wasn't hers. She didn't even know what she wanted, apart from M&M's she didn't really like candy. She was more a chips kind of girl but the vending machine was out of them. As was her life, apparently.  A press of 'A7' had a packet of mints dropping down with a thud and a couple more coins later she had a can of Coke to go with them.

She didn't even like mints. Why the hell did she even buy them? Probably just to spite Dean, the jackass. She deflated slightly before pocketing the mints in her jeans. That wasn't fair. It wasn't his fault she hated University. She shouldn't take it out on him. She'd pay him back in the morning.

“So, did Harry die and Voldemort win, or summat?” She glanced over her shoulder to see Dean leaning on the corner behind her, his eyebrow raised and she shook her head.

“Harry dies, but so does Voldemort,” she corrected with a small smile. “Mint?” She pulled them out and offered him one. He shook his head, pushing off and uncrossing his arms.

“So, if Hogwarts is safe, why the hissy fit?” he pressed and she opened the can, taking a swig with more force than was needed. Dean didn't approve of angry drinking soft drinks rather than booze, but at least it wasn't Diet. He'd caught her when she'd been a teenager drinking Diet Coke, and her answer of 'Because it'll help me lose weight' had him screaming at her for hours. She wasn't going to make _that_ mistake again.

“I just can't stand it there, Dean,” she cried. “It's driving me fucking _insane!_ And I know I promised Uncle Bobby, and I hate letting him down but I lost my job last month and I'm running out of money and I don't know what to do anymore!” She took another aggressive chug of her soda. “It's all a fucking sham, Dean!”

“I thought you were enjoying it there,” he replied. “You were always such a book nerd.” She smiled half-heartedly.

“I am a book nerd,” she corrected. “It just all seems so pointless, you know? The pair of you are out saving the world, and I'm sat in front of the computer wondering how to best describe a person as a dick without actually using the word 'dick'.” She shot him a look. “It's 'a misinformed, self-indulgent socialite', in case you were wondering.”

“That does sound gripping,” Dean retorted, walking over and putting his arm around her shoulder. “It can't be all bad, though. What about your room-mates? All them late night pillow fights must be awesome.” She rolled her eyes.

“That doesn't actually happen,” she told him yet again.

“Hey!” He snapped. “Don't lie to me. I know they happen, every dressed in skimpy outfits, testing out their sexuality.” He wiggled his eyebrows even as she nudged him in the side.

“Do I have to tell Uncle Bobby you're perving on me again?” she wanted.

“I'm not perving on you,” he defended. “I'm perving on everyone else.”

“Oh, so I'm not good enough for you to perv on now?” she teased and the pair started chuckling.

“Alright, alright,” he declared as they headed back to the roomh “No studying required, when we take you back I'll lie my ass off to Bobby and hope he doesn't notice.” She beamed, hugging him tightly around the waist.

“You're the best, Dean,” she told him and he nodded.

“Yeah, I am,” he replied. He opened the door and Sam looked up from the laptop, giving them both a nod in acknowledgement.

“So, best I can tell, Adam Milligan is real...” he started, turning the laptop around to show them what he'd dug up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! Very much appreciated! :)

Dean was pissed and, despite the fact that she couldn't remember a time not knowing him, or how to see through his façades when he was hurting more than he'd admit to, Amelia never knew what to do with him when he was this angry. Sam was sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, seemingly ignoring the fuming older Winchester, so as she sat in the back with Adam she took his lead. When they'd gotten to his house and saw the remnants of John scattered throughout, much like he'd been in the boy's teenage years, Dean turned from angry to professional which worried her all the more. Detaching himself from the situation meant that he was hiding everything inside, and the longer he did, the more violate he'd become.

He and Sam stepped out of Adam's mom's room to discuss something Sam had found, leaving her to stand awkwardly with Adam. She had her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked on her heels. She felt for the boy. Who wanted to have John Winchester as a father, _really_?

“So, are you like, my half sister?” Adam asked her to break the silence. She shook her head hastily.

“Oh, no,” she reassured him. “No Winchester blood in me, I'm afraid. I'm just tagging along instead of going to uni.”

“You're tagging along being a mechanic?” he asked slowly, sceptically and she shrugged.

“What can I say?” she replied with a grin. “I like getting my hands dirty.” She gave them a little cheeky wave before she walked over to his mom’s dresser. There were a few photographs on the top in plain frames of the mother and soon, with Adam being only a young boy. They looked happy. Probably because he hadn't met John yet.

“No offence,” Adam started. “You don't look like the type of girl who, you know, plays with engines.” She smiled, not at all offended. She got that a lot.

“Yeah, well, my Godfather raised me in a car salvage yard,” she explained. “I used to ask what he was doing, and he showed me. Probably could fix a car better than you.”

“So, are you their boss?” he asked slowly. She could completely understand where he got that impression from. With the Winchesters’ cover being mechanics, and her Godfather owning the salvage yard, then she must be their boss. It wasn’t something she meant to give the impression of, but she liked it all the same. She pointed at him with a grin on her face.

“I like you,” she declared loudly, partly out of amusement and partly to drown out Dean and Sam talking about a case John had been on in the same town that Adam lived in. “Yes, I am their boss.” Adam smiled half-heartedly then sat on his mom's bed, sighing heavily. “Hey, kid.” She walked over. “They'll find your mom, okay?”

“They don't really like me, do they?” Adam asked, nodding towards the door.

“Dean idolised hi... your dad,” she explained gently. “Sam? Not so much. It's just hard for them to see yet another thing John hid from them.”

“Did you know him?” She opened her mouth to reply as Dean and Sam appeared in the doorway. Dean immediately frowned at how close she was to Adam, like she was taking an interest in him and, testily, he held up a black and white photo of a bald man in glasses.

“Hey, does your mom know Joe Barton?” Dean asked gruffly and Adam shook his head slowly, looking at the picture, confused.

“Uh, I don't think so. Why?” he replied, his curiosity piqued. Dean looked at Sam, slightly disheartened because it was always easier if there was an obvious link between victims. Sam shot him a look as if to say ' _What did you expect?_ ' and with a sigh Dean turned back to Adam.

“Is he missing too?” Amelia asked and Dean looked at her, hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She'd been a lot happier since he'd relented his teasing of her the night before. They might have to talk about the heeled boots, though. He opened his mouth to explain the deal with Barton when something by her heels caught his eye. In the dark wooden floor, scratch marks trailed underneath the bed. His head tilted to one side and he walked over, crouching slightly as he got closer.

“What is it?” Adam asked as Dean pushed Amelia out of the way.

“Watch out,” he told her, kneeling on the floor and flipping the edge of the comforter up onto the bed. He looked under, trying to see where the marks led to but it was too dark. He got up, chucking the pillows aside on the bed as Sam came over to join the three.

“Give me a hand with the mattress.” He told Adam and with his help the chucked the mattress off the bed frame. Underneath was a large, intricately decorated vent and Dean sighed and looked at Sam.

“I don't want to go down there,” he protested.

“Well, neither am I,” Dean retorted.

“I'll do it,” Amelia declared with a sigh. As excited as she was to be included, the idea of getting stuck in a vent wasn't exactly appealing. “I may not be that skinny,” which received an angry ' _hey!'_ off Dean, “but I'm smaller than the two of you.”

“In them boots?” Dean exclaimed in disbelief.

“What's wrong with my boots?” she replied, indignant on their behalf. They were her favourite pair, almost knee height and in a beautiful brown colour she'd yet to see again.

“We'll do this the old-fashioned way,” Sam offered as a solution. The other two nodded, agreeing and on the silent count of three both Sam and Amelia slammed their fists down as rock while Dean chose scissors. Sam and Amelia smirked, high five-ing in victory as Dean waved his arms before punching the air, frustrated.

“Every time,” he grumbled, pushing the bed frame out of the way. He pulled the vent off the hole and pulling his flash light out. He grimaced at the blood strains splattering the silver metal, another not-so-good sign over the fate of Adam's mother. He glanced up at Sam and Amelia, Sam still smirking as Amelia shot his two thumbs up in encouragement. He scowled at her before slipping into it.

“Why didn't I pick paper?” he muttered to himself.

_~0~0~0~_

Adam was _not_ impressed when they ditched him. All they left him with was the instructions to call the cops but not until he saw them drive away. He was not to mention the trio, just tell them that he'd been walking around his mom's room and had seen the scratches.

He demanded answers, answers that Sam believed he deserved and ones that Dean didn't want to tell him. Sam had told him anyway and had overwhelmed Adam with the information on monsters and demons and the evil that hid in the shadows. Dean could barely listen and neither could Amelia, even though she kind of agreed with Sam. It was just that once you know what's out there then there was no way of leaving that behind. But it was his _mother_. All of the knew what that felt like to lose parents.

“Okay, so...basically, you're saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I’ve ever had, that's all real?” Adam asked, stunned from one of the two beds in Sam and Dean's room. Sam sat across from him, Dean and Amelia at the small dining table by the window.

“ _Godzilla'_ s just a movie,” Dean called over, childishly and annoyed. Every fibre of his being screamed against this. The kid deserved better.

“Dean,” Amelia hissed.

“What?” he snapped in reply, missing Sam's bitch-face that was directed at him. His eyes burned in an angry challenge as he stared her down, daring her to confront his attitude but she didn't. She looked down and away, making him feel immediately and annoyingly guilty for it.

“We hunt them. So did Dad,” Sam explained. Adam looked between the three, taking a deep breath before nodding.

“Okay,” he said simply, startling them all. Amelia sat up a little straighter. She hadn’t expected him to be so calm about it.

“'Okay'?” Dean repeated. “That's it?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Adam replied, again too calm.

“That we're liars, that we're crazy. Nobody just says 'okay',” Dean pointed out angrily.

“What Dean means,” Amelia spoke up, shooting Dean a look to tell him to calm down, “is that while some people don't freak out over finding out monsters are real, they rarely just accept it.” Adam nodded, as if agreeing with her. Maybe he was feeling slightly disconnected from the situation? Like it wasn't happening to him at all.

“Well, you're my brothers. You're telling me the truth, right?” Adam asked, turning to Sam who nodded.

“Yeah,” Sam replied gently and honestly. Adam then glanced over at Amelia.

“And you're their boss, so they obviously trust you.” Both Sam and Dean looked at her, eyebrows raised and she shrugged in reply. “Then I believe you. Now, what took my mom?”

“We're not sure,” Sam admitted while Dean looked less than thrilled by the turn of events. “Something's in town stealing bodies, living and dead, but we don't know what.”

“There's a long list of freaks that fit the bill,” Dean called over, probably in an attempt to scare Adam away. However, he had slumped over slightly, as if he'd given up trying.

“You think maybe she might still be alive?” Adam asked him. Dean looked away so he turned his gaze to Sam, who also couldn't look him in the eye.

“Usually, when they've taken someone, it's already too late,” Amelia broke as gently as she could. “It's always best to assume the worst because the best rarely happens.”

“Oh,” he replied, disheartened and devastated. “How can I help?”

“You can't,” Dean snapped and Adam almost glared at him, defiant.

“This thing killed my mom. If you're hunting it, I want in,” he growled in reply, like a true Winchester.

“No,” Dean declared, as if it was the end of the matter.

“Dean...” Amelia sighed and he span in his chair to glare at her. Everyone was pissing him off, apparently.

“No, you don't get a say,” he snapped. “He wasn't you dad and he isn't your brother.” He turned, missing the hurt that flashed over her face or the way her lips pursed together to stop her arguing back. She wasn't even going to disagree with him, just suggest that he cooled it off a little. “The answer's still no.”

“He lost his mother,” Sam pointed out in exasperation. “Maybe we _all_ can understand what that feels like.” Dean stood up, storming over and waving his dad's journal.

“Why do you think Dad never told us about this kid, Sam? Huh? Why do you think he ripped out the pages?”

“Because--” Sam started.

“ _Because_ he was protecting him!” Dean interrupted, cutting his brother off. Why were they all arguing against him? He couldn't understand why anyone would _willingly_ bring anyone into their lives. He'd accepted a long time ago that nothing he could say was going to stop Amelia, but he'd be damned if Adam was going the same way as them as well.

“Dad's dead, Dean,” Sam replied with a sighed.

“That doesn't matter!” Dean shouted. “He didn't want Adam to have our lives, okay? And we are gonna respect his wishes.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Adam asked, annoyed that they were discussing him like a child.

“No!” both brothers stated at the same time, Dean frustrated and tired, Sam gentle but firm. Dean chucked the diary down and stormed towards the door. “Babysit the kid,” he told Amelia, spitefully not addressing Sam as he grabbed his jacket.

“Hold on, you can't just storm off, Dean!” she cried, panicking slightly. She understood he was angry but walking out wasn't going to solve anything.

“Watch me!” He slammed the door shut and Amelia sighed, pushing herself out of the chair.

“I'll go after him,” she told the other two brothers before leaving the room. She was too late and ran a hand through her blonde hair as the Impala went screeching away. She had hoped that Dean would have waited for her, but he had been so angry at Sam that she supposed it had been wishful thinking. She stood outside, staring at the door back to their motel room.

She didn't particularly want to go back in. There was something about Adam that had put her on edge, something she was sure the two men hadn't noticed. Maybe it was because she didn't really care one way or another that they had another brother, or that John had lied because when hadn't the man treated his boys appallingly? But it was one thing to be detached from a situation because you were in shock, or because there really didn't seem to be another explanation, but to act so logically after being told that your only parent had been kidnapped by monsters didn't sit right with her.

But, with no way of following Dean, and no chance he'd answer his phone if she did call him, she headed back inside to see Sam explaining how to load a gun to Adam and it seemed everything was escalating rather quickly.

_~0~0~0~_

Adam had finally headed to the bathroom, and after a couple of hours watching Sam show him how to dismantle and put guns back together, giving him simple tips on how to spot a demon, or the signs of a ghost, Amelia had to know what was happening in the motel room. The younger man seemed to be drinking it all in, and she had to admit he seemed a bit of a natural when it came to guns, but it all seemed a bit wrong.

“What the hell is up with you?” she hissed at Sam, who barely glanced up from the shotgun he was holding.

“What do you mean?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Since when are you okay with bringing a Pre-Med into our life?” she clarified.

“He's our brother,” he offered as an explanation. “He doesn't have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice, Sam,” she retorted.

“We didn't,” he snapped as the door opened and Adam stepped out. Their conversation was halted before Amelia could even ask him what he meant by that comment.

_~0~0~0~_

“So, you're at university too?” Adam asked as the sun was setting outside. The poor guy had needed a break, Sam had been firing information at him at such a shockingly quick pace Amelia would really be surprised if any of it had sunk in.

“Yeah, I'm doing an English major,” she told him offhandedly, trying to hide the fact because she hated University more and more each time she thought of it. “Not like you, though, Mr Pre-Med.” She nudged him as she sat next to him on one of the double beds. “What sort of doctor are you aiming for? Children’s? Foot?” she smirked playfully. “Gyno?” He shook his head.

“No, no,” he replied with a chuckle, even if his cheeks were tinted slightly pink at the tease. “I want to be a surgeon.”

“Really?” Amelia replied, slightly impressed. “Can see why the idea of gore doesn’t repel you.” He shrugged.

“Seeing how things work is really intriguing,” he explained. “Fixing things, seeing how they tick and removing the bad just... attracts me.”

“Right,” Sam barked from the other bed, having been sat there, tapping his foot impatiently. “Enough chatting. You need to know how to perform an exorcism.” Amelia rolled her eyes and jumped off her bed.

“I'll go get some food for us,” she declared, knowing it was pointless to argue about whatever had crawled up his ass and died. “Want anything in particular?”

“No,” Sam dismissed sharply and she ignored him, turning to Adam, who shrugged.

“I wouldn't mind some fries,” he said hopefully and she smiled, glad he was being nice.

“Fries it is,” she agreed, heading outside and reaching for her cell the moment the door closed. She held it to her ear, listening to it ring until Dean grunted his greeting.

“ _What?_ ”

“What the hell is wrong with Sam?” she asked as she stepped onto the side walk. “I mean, one moment he's 'Mr Normal' and the next he's teaching some newbie how to do an exorcism? It's messed up.” Dean sighed in frustration.

“ _I know,_ ” he agreed reluctantly, because Sam's moods had been increasingly bitchy for the last couple of weeks now. “ _I don't know what to tell you._ ”

“Where are you?” she asked gently because she could tell he was worried about his brother and regretted bringing it up.

“ _I've just been to the empty graves,_ ” he explained. “ _Seems like whatever took the bodies ate them where they were lying. Off to the bar to see about Barton_.”

“Can I come?” she begged as she jogged across the road to the McDonalds sat there. “Please, Dean. Mr Roboto is seriously pissing me off.”

“ _Just keep an eye on the kid,_ ” he snapped gruffly before hanging up on her. She looked down at the phone in shock, then angrily stormed into the fast food restaurant and stood in line, thinking of exactly what she was going to shout at him when she saw him again.

_~0~0~0~_

Amelia was sat by Sam as they both cleaned a shotgun each when the lights in the room went out. She jumped, clinging to his arm slightly at something rattled through the air conditioning ducts above their heads. They shared a look as they both clocked the way whatever was in their headed and the trio stood up, staring at the bathroom door.

“Stay here,” Sam told the pair lowly, loading the shotgun as he headed towards the door. Amelia reached out and grabbed Adam's arm to stop him following Sam. He opened the door and stepped in as Amelia held her breath, the empty shotgun hanging at her side. Sam checked the room, fully alert as he rotated on the spot. Nothing happened for a moment, then there was another rattling noise and he stepped out, aiming his gun at a vent in the ceiling.

“It's in the vents. Go!” he shouted, firing at it once. Amelia dropped her own gun, without the time to load the weapon it was dead weight and helped Sam usher Adam out of the room as he kept an eye on the vent. Slamming the door behind him, he followed them down the stairs to the car park.

“Where's your car?” Amelia asked Adam, who nodded towards a pick-up truck just up the way from them.

“Over here,” he replied, shrugging his jacket on frantically then reached into his pockets for his keys.

“All right, keys,” Sam called and Adam quickly chucked the set at him, Sam catching them one handed. Sam fumbled with the keys as Adam and Amelia headed to the passenger side, waiting for him to let them in. Amelia kept glancing at the stairs, waiting for something to run down the stairs after them. She'd been taught well. Her Uncle Bobby had wanted her to be prepared for anything that might pop up in her life but she could only fight back if she knew what she was hunting. A lot of things ate dead bodies, and a lot more things ate live people, but she was struggling to find anything in her rich knowledge something that ate both.

Sam yelled in surprise, shooting downwards as something tried to pull him under. Surprised, both Amelia and Adam ran around the truck as he chucked his shotgun away to cling to the bottom of the truck to resist whatever it was that was trying to make him his next meal.

“Sam!” both of them cried, Adam grabbing one of his arms as Amelia dropped to the floor, trying to see underneath. It was too dark so she couldn't see a thing. She held her hand out for him to grab with his other hand, pulling it with Adam and slowly managed to get some leverage against the supernatural being underneath. Behind them a car pulled up and a quick glance showed Dean rushing out to help.

“The shotgun!” Amelia cried, nodding over to it and Dean barely crouched to pick it up, running right up and aiming under the truck, waiting for the moment when Sam's feet appeared to shoot underneath. As the three fell to the floor he looked under but, like Amelia, couldn't see anything. He and Sam shared a look, surprised, as Adam flopped to the floor next to him, everyone panting at the effort. Adam opened one eye and looked over at Amelia.

“You're really strong,” he told her and, over Sam's head, she smacked him on top of his own.

“Idjit,” she remarked before flopping against the floor herself.


End file.
